You're Different
by HarryLurvsMarsBars
Summary: Ginny pays Harry a visit after the battle... HG Fluff! Chapter 6 finally up!
1. Chapter 1

**Pointless HG fluff that may possibly turn into yet another "nineteen years after" story, yay!  
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It was two days after the technical end of the war and Voldemort's death, and the castle had finally settled into a state of something that could best be described as sorrowful excitement. While a good majority of people were mourning the loss of loved ones, everyone was still buzzed with the knowledge that the most evil wizard in modern history had finally been defeated.

This emotional state could be applied to Harry as well, who was lying on his back in his trusty old four-poster as he had for the past couple of days; arms behind his head, glasses on, and eyes staring blankly at the ceiling. He wasn't remotely ready to face the entire outside world yet – Hogwarts had been bad enough, where he had been bombarded by joyful friends and questioning teachers, who had so far managed to keep outsiders away from the school. Plus, he didn't have anywhere to go except possibly the Burrow, the place where, for once, he just really didn't want to be. There would be too much sadness regarding Fred's death, and he couldn't face that. Not yet, anyway.

Still, he knew he couldn't stay in the warm, plush sheets of his bed forever, however much he wanted to sink into said sheets, melt away from the world and just forget everything bad that had happened over the past few months.

His wish was half granted when the door creaked open and his nose caught the familiar floral scent that would be forever embedded into his senses as _her_: Ginny. Her small feet padded to the left side of the bed, and as she sunk in beside him he felt the tension roll off his shoulders. It was the first time he had spoken directly to her, let alone be with her by himself, since that tragic, amazing night. Now all he could think about was her, even though they were still separated by a good six inches of mattress.

They were both silent before she broke the spell. "Hi," she murmured quietly.

Harry took a deep breath. The gloomy timbre in her voice nearly broke him, bringing a lump to his throat. He wanted nothing more than to bury his face in that long sheet of sweet-smelling hair and apologize for everything. For leaving her, for Fred…just everything.

"Hey," he replied.

Ginny turned on her side, facing him now. Harry chanced a glance at her and noticed that her eyes were faintly rimmed with red, though from crying or lack of sleep he could not tell. Maybe both, perhaps. He knew Ginny hated crying, on account of that it made her feel weak, vulnerable, the things she had learned not to be growing up with six brothers. His train of thoughts was broken by her voice.

"I know you're probably tired of hearing this, but can I ask how you are?" she asked slowly.

The corners of Harry's mouth twitched upward, the closest thing that had come to a smile in a couple of days. "All things considered," he paused, took another deep breath, "bad."

There really was no better way to put it. His body ached from the physical and mental exertion it had been through, emotionally he felt guilty, drained of all happiness and joy, despite the killing of Voldemort. Even the brightly shining sun, which he had not been in for quite some time, couldn't get his spirits up.

Ginny huffed a little laugh, and the sound was like music to his ears, little and incomplete though it was. "At least you're being honest. Mum said you gave her the old 'fine.'"

"Yeah, well, you're different." He had said the words a hundred times before, but never had they meant so much. She _was_ different, and that was exactly why he felt so comfortable telling her the honest truth.

She reached out and touched his elbow. The physical contact sent tiny shivers down the back of his neck, and he couldn't help but scoot a little closer.

"So I've been told," she said, smiling a bit.

At that Harry himself actually grinned. It was refreshing to be poked fun at instead of swamped with suffocating hugs and congratulations. She kept her distance without being too far away, too cold. They were almost touching now, facing each other, and Harry could tell she was waiting for him to make the first move of full contact. When he could stand it no longer, he shuffled to her, resting his head in the crook of her warm, freckled neck. Her left hand went to his freshly cut hair (he had received the cut the night before after Hermione had lightheartedly pointed out that he needed one), while he right arm went around her waist. He breathed in deeply, inhaling her scent, and then nuzzled his nose into her neck once again.

"Tell me everything, Harry," she whispered, stroking her fingers through the thick black strands of long-but-not-too-long hair. "Start at the beginning, at the start of the last school year."

And he did. Every detail he could possibly remember he told her. From Dumbledore's first "lesson" and the specifics of the Horcruxes, all the way to the revival of his parents, Lupin, and Sirius, he spilled it to her willing ears. She did not interrupt with gasps of horror or questions as other people would, but she was simply there, listening and hearing the facts, not what she wanted to hear.

She was _different_.

When he had finished the tale there was a short pause before he confessed quietly, "I thought about you Gin. Every single day, I swear I did. It even got to the point where I would look at the map and just stare at your name and wish that you would know that I was thinking of you."

She smiled a gently, girly smile that she rarely found occasion to use. "You want to know something?" she said quietly. "I knew you were thinking of me. Or at least I was really, really hoping you were." She paused, then giggled. "Don't we just sound like a sappy romance novel? All we need to do now is confess our undying love for each other and ride off into the sunset on horse – "

Harry cut her off with a gentle kiss to her lips, followed by feather light pecks to the corner of her mouth, jaw, and down the column of her neck.

"I love you Gin," he said lowly. "I know that we're only seventeen, but…I've never loved anyone or really, truly had anyone who loved me except Sirius, and I'm pretty sure that even though this whole thing is new to me, it definitely falls under the 'love' category."

Ginny laughed, the sound practically forcing his lips to form smile, and he hid his face once again in her neck. "Well guess what, Harry? Even though you always feel the need to explain yourself, always seem to find trouble, and still somehow charm the pants off of everyone in your life," she paused, ducking her nose down to nudge his face up so she could kiss him once again, "I'm pretty sure I love you too."

And with that started the beginning of Harry and Ginny's new, different life together.


	2. Chapter 2

**So judging by the rather large amount of "story alert" notices I got, people want me to continue this story. I decided to add a bit more plot (meaning more characters that H/G and R/H). Thank you to those of you who reviewed before!  
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As the week passed more and more people started to leave the castle in groups; families and friends alike finally returning to a safe home. While most had left, the situation was still no different for Harry and the Weasleys. It had simply been assumed that Harry would return to the Burrow, and to be quite honest there were no other people he would like to be with, namely Ginny.

The dead bodies that once lied in the Great Hall were preserved and sent with Ministry escorts to their respective families. Harry couldn't even imagine the reactions of mothers to discover that their child was dead, or that of someone's brother or sister. Sensing his thoughts and assuming what they would lead to, Ginny tried to reassure him what had been said to him by numerous people.

"Harry," she began the countless time, taking his hand and squeezing it gently. They were sitting on a plush sofa in the Gryffindor common room waiting for Hermione and Ron. "For the last time, these peoples' deaths are not your fault. They _chose_ to fight; you didn't ask them, you didn't make them. Fred knew what he was getting into, and so did everyone else." She paused, sighing heavily. "I just don't want to see you still beating yourself up over this years from now. Please try and understand that."

Harry shook his head, taking her hand in his own and observing her clear sparkly nail polish. "I don't know Gin," he began quietly, threading their fingers, his palm pressing against the top of her head. "I guess I've finally gotten that it's not my fault they're dead. But I still feel I owe it to them, to pay my respects at all of their funerals."

"You know that's impossible," Ginny replied. "You defeated Voldemort, Harry! That should be payment enough, if you ask me." He opened his mouth to retort but she cut him off. "They no longer have to live their lives in fear and tragedy. _We_, you and me, no longer have to live like that. No more 'protecting me' or whatever that other crap you gave me was."

Harry flushed a tiny bit and Ginny chuckled, pressing a kiss to his cheek before resting her head on his shoulder. "It would make me feel loads better just to know that you aren't killing yourself inside with guilt that you shouldn't even have."

Harry felt his heart melt a little as she nuzzled her face into his shoulder. "I'll try."

"Thank you," she whispered into his shirt.

Ron came thumping down the stairs. He too had received a haircut and looked rather refreshed to be clean and fed once again, but by no means did he look happy at all. Fred's death had hit Ron particularly hard; growing up most of his other brothers were too old to play with little Ronnie and, while Fred and George's 'playtime' with their little brother was often disastrous, it was still attention that he didn't otherwise receive from his other older siblings. The only thing that seemed to ease his pain was the presence of Harry, Hermione, and Ginny, the three people he was closest with. He sulked over to an armchair, not even wincing at the sight of Harry and Ginny entwined on the couch as he would have a year ago.

"I'll go see how Hermione's coming along," Ginny said. For Ron's sake she did not kiss Harry as she so desperately wanted, but padded up the stairs to the girl's dormitories.

Harry and Ron sat there in silence for a few moments before Harry spoke. "Ron," he said quietly. His best friend jerked his head towards him, coming out of some kind of reverie. "I need to ask you something, and I want you to be completely honest."

"Yeah, sure," Ron replied, a slight look of concern appearing across his freckled face.

"Do you – " he stopped short, taking a deep breath. "Do you…blame me for what happened?"

There was no need to be more specific; Ron knew exactly what he meant. He hesitated only half a second. "Of course not, Harry," he said lowly. "Why would you ask that?"

Harry averted his eyes shamefully to the intricate pattern of the rug. "I don't know. You're my best mate, and I just had to know for sure. I can't lose you and Hermione on top of everything else that's happened. I guess I just needed…reassurance."

Ron sighed. "Well, you've probably heard this more than enough times, but I'm going to tell you again for the sake of your need for reassurance." Harry smiled at the glimpse of the old, joking Ron that was shined upon him. "Fred willingly went out there; he _wanted_ to fight those Death Eaters. I'm convinced that at that moment nothing could have made him happier than defeating what was making the world dark and serious."

Harry nodded. At that moment Hermione and Ginny came down the staircase with a trunk levitating in front of them.

"Ready?" Ginny asked quietly.

"As we'll ever be," Harry answered. And for the final time they walked out the portrait hole, down the marble staircase, and out the oak front doors, together.

***

The following day at the Burrow was one filled with recurring sorrow. It was the day of Fred's funeral, the body already at the graveyard of choice. Everyone dressed in their dress robes in silence that morning, murmuring only 'thanks' and 'pardons'. When everyone was ready they Apparated to the graveyard and took their respective seats among family and close friends.

It was almost too much for Harry to bear. The constant sobbing of Mrs. Weasley, the tears that Mr. Weasley, the Weasley children, and almost everyone there brought back memories of the laughs they had experienced on Fred's expense, his jokes and wisecracks. George could not even finish his speech about these things as he broke down completely, the reality that his twin was really gone forever sinking in like a blow to the stomach. At this Harry could not stop the few tears that escaped the corners of his brilliant green eyes. He felt Ginny shaking next to him as she repressed the sobs begging to be released, and he could do little to comfort her without completely losing it but to stroke her hair softly and kiss her hand.

"He's in a better place now," he told her gently when the burial was completed. They were strolling through the back lawn at the Burrow where the family meal had just finished. "And he'll always be with you. Trust me." They reached the edge of a copse and sat underneath an enormous tree that provided shade from the summer sun, legs spread out in front of them. "I could always feel Sirius and my parents when I needed them, as crazy as it sounds."

"It's not crazy," she replied in a thoughtful tone. "Just a weird, freakish fact of life," she finished, pulling up a few blades of green grass and throwing them onto his leg.

Harry chuckled. "You know, most people would have said 'yeah that does sound a little crazy, Harry' or something normal like that."

Ginny giggle as well. "But let me guess: I'm different."

"You know me too well."


	3. Chapter 3

**Thanks for the great reviews! Here's the next chapter…**

A little over three weeks had passed since Fred's funeral, and while life was nowhere near getting back to normal, the deaths of Fred, Lupin, Tonks, and the others were gradually sinking in for most of the residents of the Weasley household. Mrs. Weasley, of course, was the exception. The death of her son was obviously devastating, and there was rarely a moment when she wasn't in tears. No one blamed her. This wasn't like losing your favorite puppy, or your goldfish dying; you can't go out and buy a new one and replace it. The kind of love a mother has for her child Harry doubts he will ever completely understand beyond his own mother's actions all those years ago and Mrs. Weasley's reaction now.

That Saturday was a hot, glorious summer day that left everyone feeling a little uplifted. Harry and Ginny were sitting on the back porch in swing, rocking back and forth as they watched the birds chirp irritably as they hopped around the garden and dodged the gnomes that kept stealing their worms. Chuckling, Ginny turned around to look through the closed window into the kitchen, and her smile faded as she took in the sight; her mother, scrubbing carrots not magically, but manually, sniffing all the while. Any kind 'muggle' form of work seemed to make her a little better, or at least take her mind somewhat off the constant subject of Fred. Ginny sighed, and Harry turned to follow her gaze.

"I can't even imagine how she feels right now," he said quietly, ruffling his hair unconsciously. It was a nervous habit he had slipped into lately.

Ginny turned back around to face the yard, then stood up. "Come on, let's walk. I can hardly stand to see her like this."

She reached to pull his right hand in her left, threading and unthreading their fingers though still keeping their hands touching as she pulled her thoughts together. "I talked with her the other day. I think Fred's death, while a great majority of it, is only part of her problem; he was just the tip of the iceberg."

"What are you talking about?" Harry asked her, very much confused, as they strolled through the amazingly green grass.

She looked up from their travelling feet padding softly through the grass to the approaching orchard. "I think she's finally realizing that we're not little children anymore. She can't forbid us from going anywhere, from doing anything. I feel like she thinks that if she had stopped Fred from fighting, he would still be here. But he was a grown adult, who made his own choice." She paused to swallow the slight lump in her throat. "I think it might have started with Bill, when he and Fleur announced they were getting married. And you know how Mum and Fleur were up until the wedding; they were about as cordial as Crookshanks and Ron first were. Even though Bill knew that they didn't exactly get along, though, they still went through with it without her say in it. And then there's me. The baby, the only girl, 'her pride and joy', she once called me. I'll be seventeen, a legal adult, in about four months, and I'll be off to my seventh year at Hogwarts. And…I don't know."

"And you think that she'll completely fall apart when you leave?" he finished for her. "Gin you can't put off your own future because she's grieving. She'll have your dad, and I'm sure Ron and I will be around a lot of the time, even if we do decide to move out. You know how Ron is about being fed."

Ginny smiled as they sat underneath a towering tree that provided a large amount of shade and privacy from the Burrow. "What _are_ you two going to do without us?"

"Oh lots of things," Harry replied, grinning. "I'm thinking clubs, girls, and Chinese take-away every night and sleeping all day. The lifestyle every young man wants to lead."

She slapped him on the chest playfully. "Shut your face, 'young man'," she reprimanded. "You'll be begging Hermione and me to come help you cook and clean the moment you realize you're on your own."

"Hmm, you think?" he asked, nuzzling softly into her neck that gently pressured her to lean back into the soft, cool grass. Harry followed her until he was positioned on his forearms that rested on either side of her head. This was one of those times that reminded him of their times at Hogwarts together, secluded and shut out from the rest of the world.

"I know," she said quietly, reaching behind his head to grasp at his perfectly-imperfect hair, bringing his lips to hers. As per usual the kiss started slow, light, almost teasing, until Harry gave into her impatient sigh with a chuckle and pressed harder, softly running his tongue along the inside edge of her lower lip. Her lips parted immediately, tongue delving into his mouth to tease with quick swipes and gentle suckles.

They went on for what felt like hours, until they finally broke apart and looked around at the late afternoon sky.

"Damn," Ginny whispered, still quite unable to speak any other coherent word.

"That good, am I?" he said with a grin, ducking down to scrape his teeth across the underside of her jaw, producing yet another gasp from her. With all the strength and self-will she possessed, Ginny pushed on his chest, indicating for him to get off of her.

"No…yes – God that's not what I meant!" she cried, obviously flustered and annoyed. "They'll have realized that we weren't at lunch, won't they? God, Harry, stop!" she said almost halfheartedly as he began to suck on her neck.

He sat back up to look at her innocently. "What?"

"You know good and well 'what'," she replied. "Now come on, before Mum has a nervous breakdown wondering where we've gone off."

They raced back to the Burrow, hoping to use it as an excuse as to why they were so flushed. When they walked through the back door, Mr. Weasley was sitting at the kitchen table reading a Muggle novel.

"Ah, Harry," he said, glancing up from his book. He didn't even bother to ask where they had been. "I have something for you."

He produced two letters from a basket on a little table beside the door. One had an official, fancy-looking red seal that Harry recognized immediately as the Ministry of Magic's, the other of which had a deep blue seal emblazoned with a large 'P'.

"Thank you," Harry said taking them from Mr. Weasley as he sat at the seat adjacent to him. He pulled the Ministry letter open first, not sure what to expect or from who.

_Dear Harry,_

_First and foremost, I would like to congratulate you once again for your outstanding performance and bravery against Voldemort. I am not sure of your plans from here on and I do not mean to investigate them further than this letter, unless your response is positive. Your skills, talents, and temperament are characteristics that we desire for participants in our Auror program here at the Ministry. If you wish, we are more than willing to let you straight into training without any tests, no questions asked. From what I understand, you have done more in the past year than what most Aurors do in their entire career. Just remember that this request is based solely on your talents, not your name._

_All my best and good luck,_

_Kingsley Shacklebolt  
Minister of Magic_

When Harry looked up he noticed Mr. Weasley and Ginny looking at him intently for his reaction. Harry took a deep breath. An Auror position was what he had always hoped for…when Voldemort was still around. But now, when there were mainly random rebellions by the few stray Death Eaters and Voldemort supporters, would it really be what it used to? There would always be evil in the world, and Harry wasn't sure how many more deaths he could handle. What if on a mission his partner was killed, or if an innocent bystander was hurt? He handed the letter to Mr. Weasley, who read it as Harry reached for the second letter.

_Hello, Harry!_

_We haven't spoken in a few years, true, but unless old Voldy's done something to that brain of yours, you should remember me. No one forgets their first quidditch captain, after all, especially if it was me! But never mind my unfair cheeriness; I'm here to do business. Our seeker, Alistair Palmer, fled the country when Voldemort was on the rise. And – you guessed it – we need a replacement, and a good one at that. This is a formal request to show up at tryouts in three months on August 10, as the season has obviously been postponed, and will resume in July of next year. We need all the preparation we can get, which is why we are hosting tryouts so early. I am asking you not as a devoted Harry Potter fan, but respectfully as your former captain and friend. If you decide to try out, bring this to our home stadium outside of London on the day of tryouts. Attached are directions to the stadium and a helpful list of maneuvers expected to be performed by all participants. _

_Hope to see you there,_

_Oliver Wood  
Co-Captain, Puddlemere United_

Harry could not believe what he was reading. An offer to play professional quidditch was the last thing he had expected to be in that letter. Its outcome was the polar opposite of being an Auror. Quidditch brought more fame and attention, while being an Auror meant living a quiet life; it was what everyone expected him to do. But quidditch was…_fun_. There was no other word. Granted, he would probably travel a lot, but the tradeoff was there were a few months out of the year where he was paid to do nothing. He could stay home. He remembered Tonks, who was away for up to weeks at a time at some points on Auror missions. What if he had a family of his own one day? Was the fame and attention worth the life he had always wanted: one that included both success and family?

He didn't know.

**What will Harry choose? Haha please review!**


	4. Chapter 4

Harry excused himself from the kitchen table and headed for the stairs, now holding the two letters. For something of this caliber the most important opinion to him was his best friend's, who knew him better than anyone.

He found Ron sitting at the tiny desk in the corner of the room, scrawling away on a piece of parchment. _No doubt to Hermione_, Harry thought. The previous day Hermione had left for Australia to find her parents and return their memories to their previous states. He had tried to ignore their private goodbye outside Ron's room as he lay on his bed rereading _Quidditch Through the Ages_, but it was hard to block out the sounds that traveled through the thin wooden door, first their voices, and then…other noises. It had gotten so bad that at one point he had considered casting _Muffliato_ on the walls, but they soon subsided along with Harry's heightened embarrassment. Ron did not come back into the room immediately, but followed her outside and then to the bathroom, and in that time Harry did not even want to consider what he might be doing. He shook his head, trying to rid himself of the memory before sitting on his cot.

"Hey mate," he said, leaning against the wall.

Ron grunted, indicating he would speak in a moment. Sure enough, with a final scribble, he dried the ink with a charm and then rolled up the parchment and bound it. "What's up?" he finally asked, walking over to a rather bubbly Pigwidgeon, catching him skillfully and tying the letter to his leg and making his way to the window.

"I got invited to try out for Puddlemere United."

In shock, Ron misfired Pig mid-throw so he bounced off the window sill with a high-pitched hoot and fell a few feet further than usual once in the air. After making sure the little owl was flying once again (albeit in a rather crooked line) Ron rounded on his black-haired friend.

"When did you find this out?" he demanded, throwing himself onto his own bed, staring at Harry still.

"Just now," Harry responded, handing over the letters. "But there's something else as well. Read the one with the blue seal first."

Harry watched as Ron's eyes examine Oliver's invitation to attend the Puddlemere tryouts, his eyes growing wider as he finished.

"Harry, do you know how difficult it is to get a personal invitation to a professional tryout?" Ron asked incredulously. He looked at the second piece of parchment that had the maneuvers written out.

Harry shrugged. "I would expect loads of good players get them."

Ron shook his head and looked at Harry like he had spurted bean sprouts from his ears. "_Good_ players? Try _amazing _players." When Harry shrugged modestly again, Ron continued. "Take Ginny and Charlie, for example. Ginny is a good player Harry, a really good player, but she'll never play professional. Charlie, though, he could have played for any team in the league if he hadn't gone off chasing dragons, everyone's said it. You can't just be good to get into professional quidditch."

Harry considered this. "Why don't you read the other letter and tell me what you think."

Ron's face was shocked but much more solemn than when he had read the quidditch letter. When he had finished, he looked up at Harry with serious eyes. "What are you going to do?"

Harry sighed. He couldn't say that Ron's eagerness about quidditch had surprised him, but he had hoped that he might be a bit more helpful when comparing the two. "I don't know," he answered honestly.

"Well, break it down. What appeals the most about being an Auror of them to you?"

Harry thought about it for a moment. "Being an Auror would satisfy me, I think. You know better than anyone that I can't stay out of trouble or other people's business for the life of me, so what better career than one that involves both? Most importantly, I guess, is that helping people makes me happy."

Ron nodded. "And what about quidditch?"

"Quidditch is fun," Harry answered immediately. "It's a lot less stressful than Auror life seems. There's three months out of the year when the only thing I have to worry about is going to practice. The best thing about it to me, though, is that it's the best option for the future. I mean, what if I have a family one day? What if…what if I have kids, and they need me? Kids need parents, not a parent, and I wouldn't want them to go through what I did growing up."

"Those are both decent answers, mate," Ron said quietly. "But what do you consider the downsides?"

"Fame," Harry replied simply. "For quidditch, that is. More fame, attention, and glorification. The exact thing I've never wanted, and here I am thinking of pursuing a career that will give me just that."

"Yes, but you have to think of all the Aurors we either did or do know," Ron explained. "Think of Moody. I mean, as much as I admired the man, he was just a little too uptight for my taste. I might have to cut you off as my best friend if you end up like him."

Harry grinned both at Ron's comment and the memories of rather humorous moments brought on by Moody's paranoia. "I hear you; I don't want myself to end up like Moody in that sense either. But there's also the overall risk factor of being an Auror. Ron, I don't think I can handle any more deaths…of anyone. And no matter how well trained we are, there are still going to be those circumstances in which we might not be able to save a victim."

Again Ron nodded. "It has to be your decision, because we both know that only you can determine what's ultimately best for you. But on the topic of careers, there's something I need to tell you as well."

That night dinner was a rather enjoyable experience, all things considered. Mrs. Weasley was actually joining in conversation, and George was slowly learning how to go about life without his twin, cracking jokes that none of them had heard before, Harry realized. He thought this so because looking back, all of Fred and George's jokes involved the pair of them, not one or the other. This George was still the same old George, yet different in so many ways. The rest of the family would see that later tonight, when he, Ron, and George made their announcement.

As dusk settled in the yard was filled with the sound of cicadas and the presences of the pink-purple sky as the family, which included Percy and Charlie that night, tucked into a dessert of cherry pie. With everyone relaxed and well-fed, George glanced at Harry and Ron with a questioning look, and they both nodded. George cleared his throat, disrupting the small talk among family members.

"Everyone, we have an announcement. That is, Ron, Harry and I do," he stated. Not sure what to expect, the rest of family stared at the three of them apprehensively. George indicated for Harry to speak first.

"I, uh, got two offers by letter from two very different people regarding my future," he began hesitantly. He glanced from Mrs. Weasley, who was staring at him intently, to Ginny, who's questioning cinnamon eyes bore a hole into the side of his skull as he quickly turned his gaze to Mr. Weasley, the neutral of the family. "The first was from the Ministry of Magic, accepting me into their Auror program no questions asked. The other was a letter from Oliver Wood," Charlie, who kept in touch with Wood, raised his eyes apprehensively, "offering me access to tryouts for Puddlemere United."

His audience gasped. Apparently once again he, Harry, was the only one who didn't realize the honor of receiving a personal invitation to tryouts. "And what did you decide?" Mr. Weasley asked calmly.

"Let Ron and George tell you what they're doing first," said Harry.

George cleared his throat once again. "I've decided to appoint Ron the new co-owner of the shop." Harry saw Mrs. Weasley's eyes water, but he couldn't pinpoint exactly why out of all the possible reasons.

"He's had some great ideas for new products," George continued.

"And let's face it," Ron cut in, "I'm not cut out for anything else."

George smiled a little. "I'll show him the trick of the trade, and he should be up to par by our grand re-opening in a couple of months."

"And as for me," Harry said, "I've chosen to go out for Puddlemere. If I don't make the team, the plan is for me to go and work with Ron and George. I just can't see myself being an Auror and being truly happy as my life goes on. There are certain aspects that appease me, but the downsides outweigh them."

Without warning Mrs. Weasley knocked her chair over and rushed to their side of the table, giving each of them an enormous hug and kiss on the cheek, tears flowing freely.

"Congratulations, you three," she said with a watery smile. Pulling back she put a hand on the shoulders of Harry and Ron. "I just can't believe the two of you are grown. You're not twelve anymore…"

At that she stared at them a moment longer, sniffed, then mumbled something about getting more ice cream and bustled back into the kitchen. Mr. Weasley followed her, smiling at Harry, Ron, and George as he passed them.

"Good going, Harry," Charlie congratulated, roughly patting Harry on the back. "It takes a lot to get a personal invite."

"Told you," Ron smirked. Harry ignored him.

"And I guess if George trusts you with his own business, Ron, then I trust you with it as well," Charlie said, grinning. "Oh, and Harry, if you really want a starting spot on Puddlemere, I suggest you get to work right away. They were third in the league last season; you've got big shoes to fill." Harry wasn't sure to be pleased for the advice or nervous at the prospect of not being good enough. Still, he thanked Charlie all the same as Charlie stood, announcing he was off to bed. He was leaving for Romania once again in the morning.

Ginny was the next to come over, but not to Harry. "I'm proud of you, Ron," she said smiling, putting her arm around George's shoulders. "How does it feel to finally find something you're actually good at?" she joked. Had it been someone else Harry might have thought that Ron would take that comment offensively, but this was Ginny, so Ron played along.

"About as good as it will feel to not hear your nagging every day," he said smoothly, but grinned nonetheless when she gave him a full hug, too happy and excited to take anything seriously.

Harry stood up, excusing himself. "I have to go write my replies to Kingsley and Oliver," he explained. "I'll talk to you later," he added softly so only Ginny could hear. Ginny looked at him, whiskey eyes meeting emerald, and he knew her to understand what 'later' meant.

He quietly went up the stairs so as not to disturb Charlie until he got to Ron's room. Closing the door, he drew out a couple pieces of parchment and quill from the drawer. Dipping the quill in the bottle of ink, he began Wood's letter first.

_Hey Oliver!_

_I just wanted to start by saying it's great to hear from you – you're right, no one forgets their first quidditch captain. I think I'm still bruised from the hours of practice you put us through those couple of years…_

_On a more serious note, I have an answer to your offer. I would love to partake in the tryouts, but Voldemort had this way of getting in the way of my time to practice. I hope that doesn't change your opinion, because no matter what's happened, I feel confident in my abilities and am going to work as hard as I can until the day of tryouts. Thank you so much for this opportunity. _

_See you on 10 August,  
Harry_

_P.S.  
Maybe we should pretend your co-captain offered me this chance instead of you. I don't really fancy the idea of what people might make out of my Hogwarts captain putting me on his professional team._

Harry read the letter and set it aside, taking a deep breath before starting Kingsley's letter.

_Dear Kingsley,_

_I would like to respectfully decline your offer to accept me into the Auror program. It took a lot of thought and it was a big decision, but I realized the Auror life is not the life for me. Maybe when Voldemort was alive, but now that he's gone I feel like my work with the Dark Arts is finished, and while it would satisfy my mind that I was helping innocent people, it wouldn't make my heart truly happy. I hope that you aren't angry, but I think it's high time I made a decision for myself for once, without the thought of other people. Thank you again for the offer, and I hope we can see each other soon…maybe at the Weasley's? I know Arthur has been anxious to see a few Order members and catch up. Oh, and congratulations, __**Minister**__!_

_Hope to see you soon,  
Harry_

Harry read and reread the letter, finally declaring it sufficient enough and rolling them up and placing them on the desk to be sent out to their respective recipients.

A little after midnight, when Ron's snores filled the room and Harry was sure the rest of the house was asleep, he grabbed his wand and opened the creaky door with a wince, then creeping down the stairs to the ground floor and sneaking out the back door. He found Ginny sitting on the swing on the porch wearing her dressing gown over a tank top and a pair of sleep shorts. She smiled at him, standing up and offering him her arm.

"Fancy a stroll in the moonlight?" she asked sweetly. Harry laughed and took her arm and they did indeed walk into the unimpeded shine of the moonlight over the grassy yard.

"So my boyfriend is off to play professional quidditch while leaving me to fend for myself at Hogwarts," she said lightly, looking up at the moon.

"Hey, don't get too excited; there's no guarantee I'll even make the team," he reminded her.

"I have faith in you."

"Thanks. And speaking of, you can fend for yourself perfectly fine."

She smiled and nudged him with her shoulder. "I appreciate you realizing this now after, what, a little over a year?"

Harry sighed. "Don't make me do it, Gin."

"Do what?"

"Monologue about why I did what I did."

"Hmm. Well I definitely don't need to hear this again. I guess I can let it go."

"Thanks."

They walked in silence until they found a soft patch of grass far away from the gnomes to lie upon. As Harry lay on his back and Ginny on her side, resting her head on his shoulder, Harry began conversation again.

"So what do you think of me playing professional quidditch?"

"I'm thinking of what your abs are gonna look like when your through training."

Harry chuckled. "I'm serious, Gin. You're opinion really matters to me."

"As it should," Ginny replied with a smile. "But seriously, I think it's a great idea. I feel much better about it than you being an Auror."

Harry smiled, relieved. "I kind of hoped you would."

He felt Ginny shift, her body closer to his now. "Would you have done it even if I didn't like it?"

Harry didn't reply immediately. "I don't know."

There was silence once again before Ginny broke it this time. "I just want you to be happy, Harry. Most of my life I've seen you generally unhappy, and now that the main reason for that is gone, I want things to change for you."

"Quidditch makes me happy. You make me happy."

He turned, nuzzling into her unique, flowery-scented hair, and couldn't think but how well it fit their surroundings. The moon shone upon their pajama clad bodies, the air smelled of jasmine and sweet grass, and the wind provided just enough sound to not make things eerily silent. At this point, he couldn't imagine being any happier.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: **Okay, so some of you are upset with me for a couple of reasons. First of all I would like to apologize about not declaring this story slightly AU until now; before the previous chapter I honestly wasn't sure if it was going to be or not. Second, Harry didn't discuss his decision with Ginny, but maybe this chapter will rectify that for you. Oh, and also my paragraph breaks aren't showing up and I'm a computer dummy so I have no idea what to do to get those to work, so bear with me. Again I apologize for whatever you dislike about this story, but that's how it is. With that said I hope you'll stick around :)

"Where've you been off to?" came a clear, calm voice from the far side of Ron's room.

Startled that his friend was still awake, Harry tried to reply as normal as possible. "A walk in the garden."

"Mmm. With Ginny?"

Harry wracked his brain for a legitimate excuse. "I couldn't sleep." _Smooth, Harry, really smooth_.

"So you decided sneaking out with my sister would tire you up a bit?"

Harry thought he could detect a smirk in Ron's voice but decided to take the safer route and not reply.

"The jig is up, Harry. You're speaking to the best friend who has what I like to call Twenty-Four Hour Hunger Syndrome. Also known as piggery to my mother and Hermione."

Harry chuckled, relaxing enough to settle into the bed next to Ron's. "Speaking of Hermione, don't even harp on about me sneaking out for an innocent stroll with your sister when I had to listen to you snog the girl that's like _my_ sister for about ten solid minutes the other morning."

If he could see him, Harry would be sure Ron's ears would be flaming red. "Shut it, you. Nobody made you listen."

"Oh, just like nobody made you stand right outside the door when you knew perfectly well there were more private places?"

"It was spur of the moment!"

"Well Ginny and I have found plenty of _private_ places to have 'spur of the moment' sn-"

He was cut off by a pillow being thrown to his face. Luckily enough his glasses had already been removed and were resting on the nightstand.

"I can't believe you're playing professional quidditch," Ron said, effectively changing the subject.

Harry sighed. "Yeah, well, I can't believe you're going to be the co-owner of one of the biggest franchises in wizard history. And besides," he continued, "there's no guarantee I'll make the team. I have to go through training and tryouts first."

"I know, but still…I just never imagined - never mind," Ron finished, and Harry could hear him turn on his side to face the wall.

"Never imagined we'd be jumping into our careers so soon after the war?" Harry supplied. He had been thinking the same thing since last night.

"Yeah," came Ron's quiet reply.

"Me neither."

Ron sighed heavily, sleepily. "Well, we can't wallow in our grief forever. I guess it has to happen sometime."

Speaking of, Harry decided to ask the question that had been nagging him in the back of his mind for the entire night. "Did you, er, talk to Hermione before you agreed to take this up with George?"

Harry couldn't predict his friend's answer through the silence that followed. "You'll probably think I'm the biggest git ever, but no, I didn't. Hermione and I, we, y'know, care about each other, but we've got things to work out, and quite honestly, I didn't want a lecture about not going back to school. You're opinion is enough for me at this point."

Harry sighed in relief. "Those were my feelings as well, seeing as I didn't exactly tell Ginny either."

"Now this is a different situation."

"Ron we've been over this whole 'sister' thing…" Harry warned.

Ron smirked. "Just joking, mate."

There was a comfortable silence before Harry broke it. "We haven't done this in a while," he remarked with a yawn.

"Done what?" Harry could tell that Ron was almost asleep already.

"Have a nice little chat before bed. It's been, what, well over a year?"

He was given a loud, obnoxious snore as a reply. Chuckling, Harry turned over, closed his eyes, and fell asleep within the minute.

Harry slept uncharacteristically late the next morning. The reason he knew so is because Ron was still snoring away on the other bed. Usually, at this point, Harry was dressed with his teeth brushed and hair…well, combed, at least. He figured it was the mental exhaustion he had gone through between last night and the early morning that had made him rise so late (which he realized, with a glance at his watch, wasn't that late; about nine AM.) Ruffling his hair and yawning widely, Harry straightened his shirt before stumbling through the doorway sleepily to head for the bathroom down the stairs and across the hall.

The first thing he noticed when he reached the kitchen on the first floor was that it was surprisingly silent save for the music floating out of the wireless that now sat on the table. In addition to the radio, the only other person in the room was Ginny, reading the comments section of the _Daily Prophet_. Harry had to smile at the rather adorable sight of his girlfriend: first of all she was wearing her favorite robe, the fluffy pale pink one with sewn-in rhinestones that she dubbed her 'princess robe,' because that's exactly what she was, after all; her long fiery red hair was piled on top of her head in the craziest, cutest mess he had ever seen; her freckles were uncovered by makeup, and her plump, pink lips moved silently to the beat of the song. Surprisingly enough, Harry recognized the muggle singer.

"How did you manage to tap into a muggle network?" he asked, making his presence finally known.

Ginny glanced up at him and smiled. "I have my ways."

"Mmm. And American, too." He paused to listen to a couple of verses. "Norah Jones, right?"

She raised an eyebrow and looked at him in a questioning manner. "Yes, in fact. I never pictured you to be the type, Harry."

Harry scoffed, feigning annoyance. "Don't even go there, my aunt used to play her all the time. She bought her CD when she and my uncle went to America one summer."

Ginny gave a slow nod as if she still didn't believe him. "Okay. But what's a CD?"

Harry chuckled. "It's a round shiny disk that plays music. But that doesn't matter. Where is everyone, anyways?"

"Diagon Alley," Ginny answered, setting her paper down to sip her icy pumpkin juice. "George asked Mum and Dad to come check out the shop to, you know, see what's left of it. They said they probably wouldn't be back until this evening. And, as I'm sure you know, Sleeping Beauty is still on his throne."

"I didn't know you knew what Sleeping Beauty is."

"Hermione," was all she needed to say.

Harry nodded and grinned, walking to the breadbox to butter some toast. "So we have the whole day to ourselves?"

"Yep," said Ginny. "Unless you count Ron, but that would require him getting out of bed, so I don't think we'll have to worry about him too much."

At that moment they heard a heavy thumping lug down the stairs, revealing Ron after all.

"Speak of the devil," Ginny muttered, walking to the sink to wash her plate.

As he slid into a seat at the table Harry hid his smirk as a passing scowl that had him receiving a rather confused look from Ron.

"Did I do something, or are you having gas?"

"No, neither."

Ron stretched luxuriously. "Where is everybody?"

"The shop," Harry answered. He explained the rest while Ginny took over for him and cooked his toast.

"Bloody hell it's hot in here," he commented, plopping himself in Ginny's chair next to Harry.

Now that Harry thought about it, he was right. The kitchen was a little steamy, even with all the windows open, and Harry suddenly felt sticky and hot.

"Why don't we go for a swim in the pond?" Ginny suggested, placing Harry's toast – which, he noticed was just how he liked it, not too brown and not too soft – along with the strawberry marmalade on the table in front of him, and a hand on his shoulder as he ate. Smiling at his quiet "thanks," she continued. "Mum won't be here to harp on us about staying out of the sun."

"Sounds fine to me," Ron said. "Oh, and Gin," he paused, and Harry could only guess with a smirk what was coming next. "Would you mind, er, fixing me some breakfast? You know I'm dead awful at cooking."

Ginny sighed exasperatedly. "Must I do everything, Ronald?"

"Well, you are the g-"

"Don't you even say 'girl' or I swear I will convince Mum to leave your portions out of all the menus for a week," Ginny threatened, waving the butter knife around dramatically.

That shut Ron up. Ginny did, however, fix him a couple pieces of toast along with porridge and bacon, even though she knew Ron hated porridge, but he figured it would be most insulting to her for him not to eat it.

"Happy now?" she said, clearing his dishes. "Now go get changed before I come to my senses and realize that I'm taking care of my eighteen year old brother."

Rolling his eyes, Ron still did as he was told. When he could no longer hear his footsteps, Harry walked over to Ginny, who was washing Ron's dishes. Kissing her cheek gently, he wrapped his arms around her middle and rested his head next to hers, despite the considerable height difference now.

"Gin, can I ask you something? About my response letters?"

Ginny looked at him strangely before resuming her work. "Of course. Didn't we already talk about it, though?"

Harry sighed. "Well, yes, but I just wanted to let you know I haven't sent either one yet, and…well, I just wanted to know for sure-for sure that this is okay with you – what I'm doing."

Ginny laughed, and Harry decided to take that as a good sign. "Harry, believe me, if I didn't approve, your ear would be so chewed out there wouldn't be anything left." She pecked him on the lips. "But I appreciate the thought."

"Good to know," Harry chuckled before reconnecting their lips in a slow press and slide that left them both sighing contentedly. Ginny turned to face him completely and brought her hands to rest on his biceps, and his tongue had just slipped into her mouth when that rude, familiar voice interrupted them. His frustrated sigh did not go unnoticed by her, and she smirked at the knowledge that her brother got on his nerves as much as he did hers.

"Is this what I'm going to deal with out there? Because if it is, I can stay in here no problem." Ron seemed to second guess himself when he realized what could possibly happen with Harry and Ginny alone in the water. "Never mind, I'm going. You'll just have to put up with me."

"Oh, that can easily be turned the other way around," Ginny warned in a low voice, her eyes narrowed. "Be wary, Ronald Weasley."

Ron made an obnoxious face before slamming the back door and heading to the pond behind the orchard.

"Remind me again why you two are best friends?" Ginny asked.

Harry laughed. "You know, I'm sure there's a very good reason, but it's just not coming to me at the moment."

Sighing, Ginny reluctantly parted from him and they walked up to her room together. "Well, I guess I'll meet you out there in a bit." With a final peck they parted their separate ways.

The family dinners were becoming more and more normal as the weeks went on. That night in particular was full of conversation about plans for Weasleys' Wizard Weezes and what the three of them had done all day. After their swim, which lasted a couple of hours, they had a game of Exploding Snap before deciding that the afternoon had finally cooled off enough to go pass a Quaffle around.

"Well, the building itself is in fair enough shape," said George in response to Ginny's question on its condition, "I just don't know how much stock has been tampered with. We managed to relocate some of it to Auntie Muriel's, when we were operating our Owl Order business there, but not all."

Despite the hot day the evening was pleasant, and together they enjoyed a nice meal out back, with the crickets and nighttime birds creating a peaceful soundtrack to end the day.

Mr. Weasley yawned and stretched. "I'm off to bed. Kids, clean up tonight, won't you?"

He and Mrs. Weasley carried their plates inside, leaving them alone to clear off the table. It was decided (mostly by Ginny) that Ron would do the dishwashing by hand since she had cleaned his that morning. Muttering about how that wasn't an even trade – though not daring to say it to her face – Ron skulked off to the kitchen.

Once the kitchen and table were clean Harry didn't bother asking Ginny for a talk on the porch; he could tell in her eyes that she was tired after the busy day that they'd had. She left him at the bottom of the stairs with a kiss goodnight and a hug.

"Is it safe to turn around now?" Ron asked as he dried the last dish with a towel.

"Yes, you lunatic," Harry grumbled. "Can I borrow Patron to send those letters? I can't believe you're making Pig fly all the way to Australia."

"Oh, like I was supposed to know Mum and Dad would come home with a new owl today? Besides, what's Patron, anyway? Some kind of Spanish disease?"

Harry walked into the living room to retrieve the large tawny owl from its cage. "Ginny named him. Apparently it's in a lot of those American muggle songs she listened to this morning, and she liked the way it sounded. From what I gather it's some kind of drink."

"Can't she ever just come up with something normal to name our pets?" Ron mumbled as he followed Harry upstairs to the attic.

Ten minutes later found Harry in his pajamas ready for bed, standing by the window with the new owl resting on his arm, the Puddlemere letter already attached to the owl's scaly leg. He figured it would be smarter to reply to it first because the job came and went so fast…at least that was what everyone else was saying.

"Give this to Oliver Wood," he mumbled, and the bird nipped his finger, showing he understood. With a sudden _woosh,_ Harry watched his possible future fly out the window.


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: I know I didn't get to reply to all of those who have reviewed this story, but I just want to say they mean a lot to me! And I apologize a thousand times that I've ignored this story for a while, but finally here's the next chapter. Please keep leaving your helpful comments, I heart them!

…

Three rather uneventful days passed at the Burrow following that night. Despite the rather passive and mundane lifestyle the topsy-turvy house brought, Harry immensely enjoyed living there with his adoptive family. He got to spend the majority of his time with Ginny and Ron, swimming in the pond, practicing the Quidditch moves Oliver had sent him, and simply recovering from the emotional toll the last year had taken on him. The amazing thing was, was that he really _was_ recovering, and remarkably well at that.

Harry could also tell that Mrs. Weasley was feeling more up to par, even if she was not her usual happy self. She was back to doing all of the housework by magic, wasn't crying every moment of the day, and was just slowly getting back to normal. Harry, Ron, and Ginny let her dote on them whenever they could, just because they knew it made her feel better to have someone to care for. One night she had gone a little too far, however, when she tried to wipe some tomato soup off of Ron's lip. "Mum, I'm not five!" he said irritably, almost like…a five year old. Some things never do change, Harry reasoned, as he dug into his own hot bowl with a smirk.

That afternoon, Harry and Ron decided it was too beautiful a day to spend inside, so they grabbed their respective broomsticks and headed out to the orchard. They had barely made it out to the grassy lawn when Ginny came running out of the house behind them.

"Look, you two!" she exclaimed, the most excited Harry had seen her all summer. "Look what I found in Dad's shed!"

She held up what appeared to be a huge, very expensive muggle camera for them to stare at.

"Why's it so fancy?" Ron asked, making a face at the object.

Ginny sighed, exasperated. "Because, you idiot, Dad bought it off a professional muggle photographer. He charmed it to work like a magical camera, said it's high time we capture the happy times while we can." In a flash (literally), she took a picture of Harry and Ron standing there side by side.

Glancing at her handiwork she burst out laughing, and Harry and Ron quickly joined her side to see what was so funny. Through the little screen they could see themselves standing in the green grass, holding broomsticks and wearing nothing more that windswept hair, tank tops, shorts, and similar expressions of humored curiosity. Harry had to admit; it was a little amusing.

"How do you get it onto the paper, if it's on the screen?" he asked.

Ginny smiled. "Simple," she answered, pulling a piece of photo paper out of nowhere. "Dad showed me the charm. I just extract the picture from the screen, and put it on the paper, like so." She murmured the little charm and did just that, enlarging it to fit the paper. "Perfect."

Photo-Harry and photo-Ron's hair now blew in the wind and their eyes met from time to time. Ginny held it up for them all to look at and stared at it for a moment. "I like it," she stated simply, and walked back into the house to show her mother.

Harry looked at Ron bemusedly. "Something tells me our lives are never going to be the same again, mate," he said solemnly, but really joking. Ron caught on and agreed with a laugh, and they continued their trek back out to the orchard.

…

Later in the afternoon Harry was lying on Ginny's bed, tossing a quaffle in the air and catching it, while she 'developed' some more pictures she had taken earlier in the day.

"Gone a little photo-crazy, have we?" Harry kidded, glancing her way for a moment where she sat at her tiny desk.

"Maybe a little," she allowed, extracting another image from the camera and watching it come to life on the paper. "But I got some amazing shots. Here, look at these."

She took the two steps it took to cross from her chair to Harry, and straddled his hips innocently, holding the papers up for him to see. There were some of the overall scenery of the Burrow and the grounds, some of her mother in the kitchen, a couple of George taking a nap, his mouth wide open. There were several of him and Ron playing Quidditch.

"Damn, I look good on a broom," Harry mused playfully, grinning at her sitting above him. "I don't see how you can resist me when I'm up there."

"Absolutely, you do," Ginny said, tracing a thumb over his lips with a smile of her own. "But _this_ one just makes me want to jump you."

She flipped to the next photo of Harry doing some kind of victory dance on his broom. He had his shirt in one hand waving it around while doing a hilarious sexy-ish dance that involved a lot of slim hips and firm abs. Ginny giggled as she watched his reaction, a look of shock and a lot of embarrassment. She laughed even more as the flush rose up to his ears.

"I'll have you know, Ginny, that that is a completely sincere and appropriate reaction to have after achieving my first Wrosnki Feint," he retorted, somewhat defensively.

Ginny tossed the pictures on the desk and used her newly freed hands to explore his chest. "Don't worry, Harry," she consoled, leaning down to gently touch her lips to his. "I wasn't entirely joking about it getting me worked up."

Harry groaned as she ground her hips into his, kissing him roughly at the same time. "Maybe you'd like to join me up there next time…get the first-hand experience," he suggested before kissing her back once again.

"I'd like that," she whispered. Ginny trailed her fingers into his hair while his tickled the skin peeking out from beneath her shirt, skirting the soft, newly tanned skin right above the waist of her short jean shorts. Wanting to feel more of her, he moved his hands upward as they kissed, bringing her shirt with them, higher and higher, until finally she raised her arms to let him slip it over her head. She felt his warm hands tentatively brush the undersides of her breasts as soon as he had dropped her shirt to the floor. "Harry," she moaned breathlessly, arching into his touch.

Wanting to see his own skin, Ginny's trembling fingers grabbed the hem of Harry's t-shirt and lifted it over his deliciously messy raven hair. She tossed the green fabric next to her skimpy white tank top on the floor and immediately searched for his lips with her own and his chest with her hands. Her small fingers traced the outlines of his muscles that Ginny loved so much. Ever since he had accepted the offer to the Puddlemere United tryout, he had been working out more and more so that his already defined torso was even more sculpted. Not bodybuilder-esque, but long and lean. He was perfect.

In the time that felt like hours while they kissed and kissed, Ginny lost her bra and harry his shorts. This wasn't the furthest they had ever gone, but every time they were together like this, it felt entirely new and refreshing to Harry. He hoped Ginny felt similarly. He remembered the first time they did it, back at Hogwarts, of all places. It was incredible in so many ways: incredibly pleasurable, incredibly awkward, and, more than anything, incredibly special, as everyone's first time usually is. Still, even as he reminisced those couple of times they had gone all the way, Harry felt that they easily compared to moments like these when they were wrapped up in each other, semi-clothed and sated with comfort rather than pleasure. "I love you, Gin," he murmured into her ear, squeezing her to him a little closer.

"Love you, Harry," she reciprocated, snuggling into his chest.

They cat-napped for a little while until Harry woke up half an hour later and stretched languorously against Ginny's body. The room was becoming increasingly hotter as the afternoon progressed, and as much as he wanted to lay there next to Ginny for the rest of the day, he really needed to shower and fix himself a late lunch. Disentangling himself from her limbs, he threw on his clothes just to look halfway decent, and grabbed some clean garments from Ron's empty room (he was in Diagon Alley with George.)

Harry descended into the kitchen from the stairs with wet hair wearing loose-fitting khaki cargo shorts and a white t-shirt. He fished in the cabinets for a pot to boil some of the homemade pasta Mrs. Weasley had prepared a couple of days ago. He had just lit the flame under the burner with his wand when he heard the familiar insistent knocking of a beak on the glass window. Turning to see which owl it could possibly be, his heart plummeted into his stomach at the sight of Patrón. With nervous steps he crossed the room to let in the owl, which jumped onto the table and stuck out his leg.

Harry had no idea why he was so nervous. There was the fear that maybe Oliver had changed his mind about him, maybe they didn't need him anymore, that they didn't _want_ him anymore; he had been out too long. Harry took a deep breath and broke the blue seal, pulling out the letter with ease.

_Dear Harry,_

_First and foremost, congratulations! You have officially earned yourself a spot on our tryout list. My co-captain Jacoby Daniels and I are very excited to have you come and play for us, even if it is just a tryout; we don't want to get carried away now, but I have faith in you. Just keep practicing and I just know you've got the starting spot. Harry, you might even be the youngest seeker in history _twice_; first at Hogwarts, now at Puddlemere! Just something else you can add to your list of accomplishments…_

_On a more serious note, for your benefit as well as ours, we've tried to keep our proposition a secret, as we both know how the press can be, especially the _DailyProphet_. I know you've been living the quiet life for a while wherever you are, but I just have to forewarn you that that will all disappear as soon as someone at the tryouts blabs about you being there. Obviously, I hope that doesn't deter you from attending, but I think it's only fair that you know. If you change your mind at any time, just owl me; I'll understand if you choose not to come._

_Still hope to see you in August!_

_Oliver Wood  
Co-captain, Puddlemere United_

Harry sunk into a chair, oddly relieved. It was nice to know that Oliver and the other captain, Jacoby Daniels, were going to keep his tryout a secret. It would avoid questions and unwanted visits until he was prepared for them. Setting the letter aside he went back to cooking his pasta mulling over the letter happily in his head. Feeling extra invigorated, he dramatically flourished his wrist after adding a pinch of salt into the cooking pasta to give it a little extra flavor.

"He's a sassy broom dancer and an even sassier cook; I'll take him."

Harry whirled around and saw Ginny standing at the entrance to the kitchen, her arms crossed over her chest and a smirk on her cute face. He grinned and strode over to her, taking her hands in his when he reached her. "In a weird, strange way, that sounded a little dirty, Weasley."

Ginny giggled. "Well, I know how much you love some sexy dirty talk, Potter. Just trying to keep the spark going."

Harry leaned in and kissed her nose. "And you're doing an excellent job of it," he said, pulling away to go check on his late lunch.

Ginny walked to stand beside him, watching him stir the now oiled water and pasta. "How did you learn to cook, anyways? Ron doesn't even know how to cook an egg, much less knows to salt and oil the water for pasta."

Harry's breath hitched a tiny bit. His aunt and uncle still shouldn't affect him like this, and just because all of the resentment and borderline hatred he had for the people he almost considered not telling her. It would just depress the mood, talking about his childhood.

She deserved to know, though. Still, better to keep it simple. "My aunt and uncle made me cook for them all the time when I was younger. You learn after a while."

From his peripheral vision he could see Ginny eyeing the way his shoulders had tensed and the finality in his tone with his last sentence had not gone unnoticed. She ignored it.

"Harry," she began, putting a hand on his elbow, "were they so terribly awful. I mean, Ron always talked about what strict and rude prats they were, but…"

"Let's just say my childhood years could have been much, much better," he interrupted. Glancing down at her, he saw the flinch at his voice and softened immediately. "I'm sorry, Gin. They're just a touchy subject, is all. And I'm just thinking that now that I'm reminded of them, I guess I should go find them. Let them know the war is over and everything. That I'm alive. Not that they'd care, now that I think about it."

"I'll go with you," Ginny said immediately. "I want to meet them."

"Gin –"

But her attention was gravitated toward something else behind Harry's head, out the window. Harry saw her doe eyes light up and heard her light squeal of delight.

"Hermione!"

…

Again to my faithful readers, I'm sorry it's been almost a whole year since I've updated this, but I promise for real that it will be better from now on. That is, if you want it to continue…Leave a review to let me know!


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